Page 143 - Oliver Twist
P. 143

’That’s for our share of the trouble,’ said Sikes; ’and not half enough,
               neither. You may keep the books, if you’re fond of reading. Tf you ain’t, sell

                ’em.’



                ’They’re very pretty,’ said Charley Bates: who, with sundry grimaces, had
               been affecting to read one of the volumes in question; ’beautiful writing,
               isn’t is, Oliver?’ At sight of the dismayed look with which Oliver regarded

               his tormentors, Master Bates, who was blessed with a lively sense of the
               ludicrous, fell into another ectasy, more boisterous than the first.



                ’They belong to the old gentleman,’ said Oliver, wringing his hands; ’to the
               good, kind, old gentleman who took me into his house, and had me nursed,

               when T was near dying of the fever. Oh, pray send them back; send him
               back the books and money. Keep me here all my life long; but pray, pray

                send them back. He’ll think T stole them; the old lady: all of them who were
                so kind to me: will think T stole them. Oh, do have mercy upon me, and
                send them back!’



               With these words, which were uttered with all the energy of passionate

               grief, Oliver fell upon his knees at the Jew’s feet; and beat his hands
               together, in perfect desperation.



                ’The boy’s right,’ remarked Fagin, looking covertly round, and knitting his
                shaggy eyebrows into a hard knot. ’You’re right, Oliver, you’re right; they

               WTLL think you have stolen ’em. Ha! ha!’ chuckled the Jew, rubbing his
               hands, ’it couldn’t have happened better, if we had chosen our time!’



                ’Of course it couldn’t,’ replied Sikes; ’T know’d that, directly T see him
               coming through Clerkenwell, with the books under his arm. Tt’s all right

               enough. They’re soft-hearted psalm-singers, or they wouldn’t have taken
               him in at all; and they’ll ask no questions after him, fear they should be
               obliged to prosecute, and so get him lagged. He’s safe enough.’



               Oliver had looked from one to the other, while these words were being

                spoken, as if he were bewildered, and could scarecely understand what
               passed; but when Bill Sikes concluded, he jumped suddenly to his feet, and
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